


The Eyes of Wolves

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-28
Updated: 2003-03-28
Packaged: 2018-11-11 00:56:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11138040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: a second epilogue of the Flare series about Diefenbaker.





	The Eyes of Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
The Eyes of Wolves

## The Eyes of Wolves

by Jodie Louise

Author's website: http://freespace.virgin.net/jodie.mouse

Disclaimer: borrowed from Alliance apart from my original work.

Author's Notes: thanks to Snowee for reading through the first draft, Satal, cmshaw, CL who have all been following this series.

Story Notes: really, if anything this is a gen story as there is no sex as such but straddle slash because of the Elaine/Cindy relationship. this may not make very much sense unless you've read the other stories in the series.

This story is a sequel to: Reaffirmation 

* * *

Prologue 

Have you ever done something so bad that you wanted -- needed -- to be punished for it? Or is it just enough punishment to have to live with the fact that you have done that bad thing every day for the rest of your life? 

The man named Benton Fraser did not think so. He wanted to be punished for his sin. When they came for him Fraser welcomed them with open arms. His heart had overruled his head. And that scared him. What disgusted him most about the whole situation was that he had not learnt from previous romantic entanglements. He had not learnt to hold back. 

So when he saw the three figures outside on the ice he went to them, knowing they would be his death. 

* * *

The wind was colder than usual. Diefenbaker could feel the ice but there was something else...something else which make his hackles rise and his stomach feel queasy. 

He ran back to the cabin knowing his packmate was in danger. If you asked him, if you had been able to understand his reply, he would have said he didn't know why he knew his packmate was in danger. It was just a feeling running from deep in his belly stretching to the end of his paws. The wolf-dog needed to see his dark haired packmate. But it was too late. The unfurred one, the naked one was stepping out into the cold with no protection. And then Diefenbaker saw them. 

The two women and the spiky haired man. They didn't have a smell so at first he doubted they were there but he could see them. But as one who was so used to piecing the world together through smell, well, he found it difficult at first to believe they were real. 

But they must be. 

Diefenbaker watched as his packmate knelt in the snow before them. 

His furless packmate would die without protection from the cold. There was nothing he could do. 

So he howled hoping someone, anyone would hear him. 

Howled. 

His pack diminished to a number of one, howling for the loneliness he felt. And not once, not once did his packmate look up or recognise his voice. The knowledge was as old as time itself -- he knew the right way to howl. The right way to proclaim a death, to proclaim his loneliness. 

Howled until his throat was sore -- howled and howled. 

Howled until he knew his packmate breathed no more. 

He didn't need to check the body. He just knew. Felt the death. 

Saw the blackness and cold. Saw everything. 

He would've stayed there to die himself, but for a feeling -- a compulsion which he could not explain. It sent him southwards -- where he thought he might have kin and packmates to bond with. 

Wolves do not have eyes like ours. Wolves can see shadows, spirits, the dead and half dead walking the earth. They can smell blood and death before it happens. Yellow eyes pierce the dark. Wolves do not have eyes like our own. 

Kowalski growled as Cindy tried to take his food bowl away. 

"What is wrong with you today?" she asked. 

The wolf-dog yapped and ran away from her. She could not understand why he had been taking on so. He never growled at her -- never. Cindy pulled her hair back away from her face and went to get her boots. Kowalski could play stupid games but she needed to get to work. 

It was a year since the wolf's namesake Ray Kowalski had died. When they finished work today Elaine and herself were going to put fresh flowers on his grave. 

Cindy had liked the blond Ray. 

As she went to close the door of the apartment she could see Kowalski's nose poking out from under the couch. Probably sulking. Then all cheeky he poked his face out before hiding back under the fabric. 

She rolled her eyes. Melvin would probably freak but hopefully she could stop the two of them meeting up again. 

"Come on, then Kowalski." she sighed. 

The dog became a streak of white-grey fur as he speeded out from under the couch and out of the door. 

Cindy shook her head. She never understood the wolf. 

In the olden days when people gathered around fires and the storyteller would be given the place of honour there were witches and wizards. Not the same as today -- they were more powerful then because people believed in their magic. The cynicism of the modern world has killed so many of the old traditions. 

Like familiars. 

An animal who would be the channel for a witch or wizard -- in the olden days you never spoke ill of people while cats, wolves or ravens were present. You never knew who might overhear your conversation. Sometimes familiars would take on the traits of their human counterparts. In death it was said that the familiar would carry the spirit of the witch or wizard to the other side. It was said that the spirit could became trapped in the body of the familiar and not be able to escape. To find peace with itself. 

Of course this is all conjecture and rumour. Who really knows what used to happen in those dark old times? We can only imagine and draw inferences from what happens in the modern world. 

Two lone figures stand at a grave while a wolf-dog dances around their feet. They clasp at each other. The darker woman resting her head and curls on the other's shoulder. 

Their hands are linked. Red roses are placed on the grave because they did not know what other flowers to get, and Cindy liked the smell of them in the florists. The ends of the petals are dark crimson, as if they have been dripped in blood. 

Slowly they turn from the grave walking hand in hand, white-grey fur following in their wake. Cindy still holding the bright scarlet ribbon which bound the stems of the roses. 

They are happy to be alive and in love. 

Elaine mourns for Ray. She loved him almost as much as she loves Cindy. 

As the wind picks up the red ribbon unfurls in the breeze, dancing in the air. The wolf-dog jumps for it, tugging the silk out of Cindy's hands. They laugh as Kowalski trots along proud and upright, the red ribbon hanging from his mouth. 

Wolves mate for life. 

Such a bond existed between Asa and Kana. They slept curled up with their tails covering one another's nose. As a couple they were devoted to each other. 

Wolves do not see colors as humans do. A human would be amazed at the white-gold of Asa's fur and the blue black of Kana's. But the wolves could not see either of these things. What the wolves could see was inside one another. Their very souls singing. When they were apart their insides ached and they could not hunt. So they always were together, Kana behind Asa like some kind of magic shadow. 

There were no pups which made Asa sad. But not as sad as being away from Kana. 

The other wolves in the pack tolerated their union but behind their backs whispered cruel things. Everyone knew why there were no pups. It was knowledge as old as Saase the old, old wolf who lived in a cave on a hill. 

There was no-one in the pack as old as Saase and though Saase was no physical help to the pack she got her share of meat as if she were. Her knowledge was more precious than knowing how to hunt for meat. Saase could heal wounds, tend sickly pups to adulthood, stop squabbles in the pack. She was wise and very old. Asa felt guilty going to her to talk about not having any pups. But whatever Saase said would not change Asa's love for Kana, or Kana's love for Asa. 

Saase was wise. She knew why they could not have pups, why they never would have pups. 

Asa had killed a white rabbit and laid it before Saase in a offering to her. 

"Some wolves are not blessed with pups. Stay happy and stay with your love." the wise old wolf said. 

For Asa and Kana were a true love match and she did not want to voice what everyone else knew. What Asa and Kana themselves knew, if only they had searched the depths of their hearts. 

"Take the rabbit and share it's blood with Kana." 

Asa took the rabbit back and trotted off to find Kana. They would have no pups -- Saase said that -- but they would bed down together, be bonded to one another and nothing else would matter. 

The rest of the pack watched Asa and Kana knowing what they were doing was wrong, but they were also jealous of the bond never stronger between two wolves. 

Cindy had been watching the TV so long the pictures had become blurred. Colors merging into a swirl. As the TV clicked off she opened her eyes and looked around the room. Kowalski was curled up with her on the couch. Elaine stood in the doorway with her robe on and the remote control in her hand. 

"I did it again?" she asked. 

Elaine nodded sadly and put her hand out. The wolf-dog yawned, stretching out his legs, his jaw clicking. Cindy pushed him off of her and took Elaine's hand. 

"I miss you in bed. Feels empty without you." Elaine said stroking Cindy's hair. 

"Sorry." she replied letting Elaine pull her towards the bedroom. 

The wolf-dog's eyes glowed as the light was turned off and he heard the door close to the bedroom. Kowalski yawned again. The hairs were prickly on the back of his neck. 

Feeling restless he got up from the couch and placed his two front paws on the windowsill peering out into darkness. 

Nothing. So why...? 

Tonight he felt like howling. Felt like running. Kowalski went out of the fire escape and trotted down the metal steps. 

He ran. And ran. And as he flew across the hard concrete he imagined snow beneath his feet. The clear smell of snow, trees -- without the smell of humans, smoke or their other filth. Clean. New. And he ran faster. 

Kowalski reached the park and slowed down. And sat. And waited. 

Wolves feel a strong bond with their blood relations -- very similar to humans. But sometimes, in the old times, it was said they could sense the death of their kin. And if it were a man that caused their death the kin wolf would hunt that man until the ends of the earth. That is why in some ancient cultures wolves were worshipped, or feared, or revered. For a wolf could smell the blood of it's kin on your hands. A wolf knew if you had killed one of it's blood line. 

We come back to Asa and Kana replete in their little world. We come back and watch as Kana mates with a husky, a man's animal, for if it were any other in the pack Asa would find out. And the husky has pups. 

Kana has made sure that his genes will live on. 

That night Kana gives Asa the best part of the meat, the softest place to lay on, and hopes Asa never guesses what Kana has done. For if Asa did ever find out it would break his heart. 

Saase cackles in her cave. She sees all, knows all. 

It is cold and Diefenbaker is tired. He knows he is too thin and needs food. But the wolf-dog cannot hunt because a metal trap gnawed through his flesh into bone. And Diefenbaker, in turn, gnawed through the bone to free his paw. 

Three legs are not as fast as four. And a storm is closing in. The smell of death -- his death -- lingers in the air. 

It will be soon. 

Still he struggles through the snow, trying to reach the woods ahead. 

If Diefenbaker had human eyes he would be able to see the scarlet trail snaking it's way across the snow like ribbon. 

But he can only smell the blood. 

If he had human eyes he might even come to appreciate the contrast between the whiteness of the snow and the redness of his lifeblood. He might think it was beautiful. 

Instead the smells become weaker, sounds become quieter, and the way ahead more fuzzy. 

Just a small sleep. 

A small one. 

As I may have mentioned before, wolves do not have eyes like our own. 

Back in Chicago, back in the cold air, sits Kowalski. And for a moment he sees an ancient she-wolf in a cave laughing. Smells the blood of his kin. Smells the blood of all of them. 

He howls. 

Howls. 

He does not understand why. Just knows he must. Ancient knowledge as old as the grey she-wolf whom calls herself Saase. The earth mother. The life giver and the life destroyer. 

And the need borne out of nowhere disappears. Kowalski sniffs the air and all is still. 

Once again there is concrete beneath his feet, grass, trees and paper wrappers blowing across the park. The smell of humans, their noise, their dirt. The discarded pizza sitting in the battered cardboard box. 

The wolf-dog goes to the box, hungryily eating the slices of pizza before resuming on his wanderings, eventually meandering back to the apartment. 

Silently Kowalski opens the door to the bedroom with his paw and curls up in the blanket at the foot of the bed. 

* * *

End The Eyes of Wolves by Jodie Louise:

Author and story notes above.


End file.
